By this point, the war’s outcome was no longer decided by regular soldiers duking it out. The battlefield had turned into a scene straight out of a godly smackdown, leaving both the Mongols and everyone else in awe. No one could deny it—Silver Priest and Yang Qi had enough power to tip the scales of the entire battle all by themselves.
A blazing pillar of goldfire pierced the air, crashing into the depths of the desert. In an instant, both figures vanished. Only those with superhuman eyesight could barely make out: the Goldfire Titan and Silver Priest dove into the sand, one after the other. Silver Priest went first—he got smacked down. Goldfire Titan followed—she was out for blood.
Never chase a desperate enemy—especially not a legendary powerhouse. Never enter a forest—especially not a creepy underground lair. These are battlefield iron laws. But the Goldfire Titan had thrown all those rules out the window. She had only one thought: beat that bastard to a pulp!
“Where’d they go?” “What’s happening?” “What’s going on?” The soldiers stared at the now-empty sky and desert, totally lost—even forgetting to fight each other for a moment. Only Jill Young’s eyes burned bright. She suddenly waved her command flag, and the Unrivaled Under Heaven troops shifted formation. Warhorses thundered, sweat-blood steeds bolted, and the cavalry made a beeline far away from the desert.
The Legacy Archon did the same—one wave of his hand, and all the Manichaean banners retreated in perfect order, hustling back into the fortress. The Legacy Archon’s eyes glinted as he gazed deep into the earth, his rock-like face showing both awe and respect.
That was respect for ultimate power.
The Mongol cavalry froze for a second, but their horses grew jittery, itching to bolt. The riders shouted, trying to calm their mounts, but it was no use. One warhorse went berserk, flinging its rider off and sprinting for its life. The poor soldier landed face-first in the sand, about to curse—only to realize the ground was scorching hot.
What the heck?
Before he could react, the sand beneath his feet turned red-hot. Then—a crimson gold pillar blasted up from the ground, shooting sky-high. No time to even scream—the cavalryman was vaporized, turned to dust in an instant.
And that was just the beginning.
“Oh crap!” “We’re dead meat!” “Run for your lives!” No translation needed—everyone could guess exactly what those conscripted soldiers were yelling. Forget the war, forget winning or losing—helmets, armor, dignity, all abandoned. They bawled and scrambled, desperate to escape the deadly desert. Too bad for them—they were already too late.
Below the desert, it looked like two evil dragons were locked in a death match. The sand sea heaved and rolled like a real ocean, waves crashing everywhere. Boom, boom, boom—the muffled impacts never stopped. Each strike sent shockwaves blasting sand into the air, and crimson pillars of light erupted from the ground, crisscrossing like deadly laser beams.
If you got hit by the shockwave, even iron armor couldn’t save you—your flesh would be blasted to bits. If you got nailed by a crimson gold pillar, forget about it—no need for a funeral, you’d be cremated on the spot.
When immortals throw down, mortals get wrecked. Achieving Ascendant Rank is like stepping into a whole new world. Back in the day, even Wind Wushang at his wildest never tried to assassinate a Sword Saint—because once someone hits Ascendant, you can’t even call them ‘human’ anymore. And when two Ascendant Rank masters go all out, it’s a hundred times scarier than usual.
The ground shook and roared, energy thick in the air, conscripted troops in total disarray—not even sure which way to run. The Goldfire Titan and Silver Priest had only been underground for half a minute, but it felt like a century.
Suddenly, a roar from underground—the Goldfire Titan unleashed her brand-new Lion’s Roar. It was like a bomb went off beneath the sand: a twenty-meter patch of desert ballooned up. Tons of sand puffed into a dome, streaks of goldfire shooting through the cracks like millions of golden threads—dazzling and wild.
Next instant, the giant dome blew apart—exploding in a storm of fire and sand, shockwaves blasting everything within a hundred meters. A shadow shot out like a bullet, smashing through chaos, shattering ladders, crushing arrow towers, and scattering panicked soldiers like confetti. The shadow tore through the battlefield, finally slamming into the massive battering ram with a bone-crunching thud.
Crack! Wood splinters flew, sand sprayed everywhere. The heavy battering ram bent like a pretzel, a huge chunk bitten clean off—as if a monster had taken a bite. Sand rained down like a storm. The soldiers stared in horror: in the crater of the ram, Silver Priest was wedged deep inside, soaked in blood.
No one could even count his wounds—there wasn’t a single patch of skin left untouched. Blood covered every inch of him. Any normal person would’ve been done for, but Silver Priest instantly stretched out his arms, grabbed both sides of the ram’s crack, and with a mighty heave—boom!—split the giant log down the middle.
He shook himself, stood up, and lifted his head to look across the field. His hair was matted with blood, but his eyes were still as sharp as a legendary blade. Clenching his fists, he let out a furious roar—his fighting spirit burning even hotter. Without a pause, he stomped the ground and charged again.